The Flu
by Darth Tromeros
Summary: Natasha is sick with the flu, so Steve is right there beside her. Sort of sequel to "Moonlight Serenade".


**A/N: Inspired by post 1088 on "The Avengers Head Canons" on tumblr.**

**Hope you enjoy. :)**

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Light flittered in the hallway. Steve awoke; his eyes squinted in the bright morning sun. He sat up, his shoulders tight from the old mattress he was sleeping on. Stretching them out, he winced as they screamed in pain, but he focused on occupant in the room at Stark Tower he was sleeping in front of.

Natasha Romanoff wasn't the one to get sick. Nobody, not even she could remember the last time she even had a cold. It seemed to have all caught up with her, though; it was now the fourth day of the flu.

Everybody seemed perfectly calm about this except Steve. He would always be by her side, hands clamped together and his lower lip being bit. The only times he wouldn't was when he would sleep in front of her room on an old mattress, simply because he refused to sleep in the same room as a women he wasn't married too.

As he finished stretching his arms, he gently cracked the door open big enough where he could slip inside. Normally at this time, she would be as wide awake as you could get; but ever since she got sick, she hasn't been nearly that awake no matter what time of day. Steve watched her sleep sadly. His heart ached for her. He knew it wasn't anything life-threatening, but just watching her be so miserable made him sad enough. Internally, he was grateful that Tony had rooms built for all of them in Stark Tower; it made it much easier to check up on Natasha rather than to keep driving back in and forth from their apartments.

Sitting down in the chair next to her bed, he found himself studying her face: the exact way her nose pointed, how her long eyelashes seem to flutter as she slept, the way the corner of her eyes twitched every so often. After a while, he found himself dozing off; when he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him. "Steve," she murmured.

He shook his head clear of all sleepiness. "What?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes again. "Nothing." A faint smile pulled at her lips.

Steve got up and grabbed the thermometer. As he brought it back, Natasha's smile grew. "I have it figured out now," he murmured, trying hard not to blush with embarrassment.

"It's okay Steve. I think it's kind of cute."

Steve embarrassment grew as he handed her the thermometer. "Today and its silly electronics," he said, trying to sound like he was joking around. In truth, though, electronic thermometers still blew him away. Thermometers in general, really.

The thermometer beeped a few moments later. He pulled it out of her mouth. "102 again," he sighed. He reached over to the desk behind the headboard on her bed and grabbed a bottle of medicine. She took it quickly, looking up at the ceiling quietly afterward.

There was a knock at the door. Pepper peeked into the room, smiling when she saw Natasha awake. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

"Same as normal." Natasha rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"She doesn't seem as nauseated anymore," Steve added, watching Natasha out of the corner of her eye.

Natasha gave a short laugh. "Not as much, but still nauseated."

Pepper lifted a bowl in her hands. "Here's the soup." She handed it to Steve.

"Thank you," Steve told her, nodding.

Pepper gave him a smile and left the room. After she was gone, Natasha groaned. "Not that horrendous soup again."

"If Pepper swears it'll make you better, you're eating it."

Natasha pushed herself up into a better sitting position. "I don't know if I can eat."

"You haven't eaten anything in twenty-four hours," Steve told her. "You're eating this." He scooped some soup in the spoon. "Come on, Natasha, open up."

Grudgingly, she opened her mouth. Steve put the spoon inside. She swallowed the soup, shuddering. "Those herbs," she said, disgustedly. Steve ignored it and fed her a few more spoonfuls. "Look at this," Natasha said. "You're feeding me like I can't feed myself."

"Just trying to help," Steve said with a sad grin.

Natasha swallowed another spoonful. "Why are you always by me? You have much better things to do."

"No, not really," Steve confessed. "But I owe you a lot after that one night."

She instantly knew he was talking about the night she helped save his life. "Steve, you don't owe me anything."

He stayed quiet, putting the almost-empty soup bowl on the desk. "But I do." He looked up at her, the same sad grin from earlier still on his face.

She looked away from him, remembering how they had danced together in the dim light of his apartment. She smiled to herself, the thought of his strong arms embracing her as she fell back asleep.

Steve watched her silently, noting little things about her again: the way her chest rose and fell, how her hair rested around her face, how soft her lips appeared. He reached out and touched her hair, running her fingers through it. It was damp with sweat. He stroked her forehead with the back of his hand, the flames from the fever licking at him. She felt so hot, yet she had three blankets pulled up to her neck to keep herself from freezing.

He wanted to see her eyes again. The memory of them staring back at him softly and passionately was enough to distract him from whatever he was doing. As his fingers gently tugged at tangles in her hair, he remembered the last time they went somewhere and how it ended up with her resting on him, falling asleep. He secretly wished that could happen again. He wanted to hold her, to kiss the top of her head, to whisper in her ear everything he wanted to say.

Hours passed. He fell asleep himself again, Natasha occasionally waking up to see him sleeping, making her smile. She felt bad for him just as he did for her; he was just waiting all day and night for her to get better. It made her happy at the same time though, knowing that someone cared enough to sit by her bed for days.

Around six o'clock, Steve was shaken awake. He startled, looking up to see Pepper. "Steve, you need to eat too, you know."

Steve hadn't noticed how hungry he was until then. He knew it wasn't good for him, considering how high his metabolism was. He glanced over at Natasha. "She'll be fine," Pepper told her. "I think she can survive without you right there."

Reluctantly, Steve followed Pepper out of the room. Natasha opened her eyes when the door closed, her lips pursed. Suddenly the room was empty and she felt alone. Sighing, she rolled over and closed her eyes again, trying to fall back asleep.

When Steve came back, he remained in the chair until nine o'clock. He knew they needed to take her temperature again and that she needed more medicine, but he didn't have the heart to wake her up when she was sleeping so peacefully. He stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him. Throwing his shirt off, he lay down on the mattress outside her room, falling asleep after some time.

It was midnight when Natasha woke again. Shaking, she got out of bed and opened the door. Her legs felt weak underneath her. The last time she had gotten out of bed was during the time Steve was sleeping in her room to go to the bathroom. Her throat and tongue felt dry, and she regretted not asking him for anything to drink.

She stepped out into the hallway, seeing Steve lying out on his stomach. For a few moments, she observed his muscular back, before hesitantly kneeling beside his mattress and tapping his shoulder. "St—Steve…."

He awoke almost instantly. "Natasha, are you okay?" he asked, concern ridden in his voice.

"I—I'm…." She felt light-headed.

He didn't let her finish. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a cradling position. Standing up, he carried her back to her bed and put her down. "I'll be right back," he murmured, leaving for a few minutes and coming back with some water. He handed it to her, grabbing the thermometer off the desk. "Natasha, you're really warm still," he told her, giving her the thermometer. She took it, putting it in her mouth. He waited for it to beep, stroking her hair. The touch of his finger gave her goose bumps.

When the thermometer beeped, he removed it from her mouth and squinted, trying to read it in the dim moonlight. "101. Hey, you went down a degree." He reached over and grabbed the bottle of medicine and gave it to her. She took it, this time much slower than before.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked her.

"I'm cold."

He gave her a sad grin, knowing it was his chance. He scooped her up in his arms again, sitting down on the bed with her. She pressed her body against his, feeling his muscular build against her legs and arm. He gently rocked her, closing his eyes as he did.

"Steve," she started quietly.

He opened his eyes. "Yes?"

"Remember when you told me you loved me?"

His heart fluttered, not sure where this was going. "Of course I do. You don't just forget that sort of stuff."

She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. "Did you know that is one of my favorite memories?"

"Me too," he told her.

She grew silent, feeling sleep overtake her again. She absorbed the warmth that came from his body, the only thought on her mind being him.

Steve bent over and kissed the top of her head. She smiled to herself, falling asleep in his arms once again.


End file.
